Manhunt: Different Perspectives
by Innocent Fox
Summary: The Innocent had been left for dead by James Earl Cash. After waking to find his comrades killed, he goes back to hunting. From my Different Perspectives one shots. Rated M for strong violence, language and graphic sexual content.


**Manhunt: Different Perspectives**

The blood dripped from the discarded meat hook, itself hanging from an overtly obese corpse. Smelling the moist earth below him revealed that he had been unconscious for many hours. It was all he could smell, the blood mixed with the dirt mixed with the dog faeces.

He arose from the ground scratched, scathed and otherwise well, yet when he was at full stature he knew something was wrong. The Innocent doubled over and vomited violently, falling back to the ground.

_Oww…_

_What the fu…_

_Why am I here?!_

The plastic bag that was used to suffocate him was partially wrapped around his oesophagus; he ripped it off and threw it with anger. The Innocentz eyes were bloodshot and he was tired.

After casting his mind back four hours, he remembered. On duty, cold, lonely and ready for a hobo to smack about, Pedro was not just an Innocent; he was a god amongst Innocentz. Lieutenant in the Innocent gang, he was regarded as the most brutal albeit intelligent member of the gang, able to calculate plans against enemies and traitors alike.

It was those four hours ago, where he thought a simple, stop the pendejo, help Starkweather and get paid job would do. Not this night, this night involved over 20 of his friends hunted down in cold blood. Usually Pedro wouldn't have cared for the brutality, he would have admired it, taken notes and killed the killer in a few swift moments, but these were his friends, friends he had have grown up with, it was time for revenge.

Four hours ago, Pedro was reborn.

Four hours ago, James Earl Cash had taken a plastic bag and wrapped it around Pedro's head anonymously. Cash had tried to stop his airways for the sole purpose of escaping. The bag had been wrapped around muffled cries; it had a huge flaw though. The bag had a tennis ball sized hole where Pedro's gums were just able to scrape to get enough oxygen to not die. Pedro was left for dead. He picked himself up off the ground slowly, fearing a possible sprain, his instincts were correct. His ankle was twisted to such a degree that he felt it all the way up his leg. After five minutes easing his ankle back to a certain level of pain he could walk, maybe run on, Pedro walked to the meat hook that had been used to disembowel his friend Fat Carlos and apologised to the now rotting corpse.

_Sorry Carlos…you were a good soldier, shame you died this way. I will avenge you._

Pedro spun his eyes around to the left and spotted a piece of blue shirt clinging to a barbed wire fence. He ripped the shirt off the fence and tried to think of a reason as to why it was there.

_Right…so if this bastard jumped the fence and tore his shirt, he must have alerted Carlos, Carlos would have turned around and gone for him but been too late and got his gut pulled out._

Thoughts of his best friend being gutted like a fish turned Pedro's mind to mush. This asshole had taken his friend out, and now he **was **going to pay.

As Pedro walked down the street he could see a streetlight flickering in the distance. As he walked with a slight limp, he cursed himself on not being there for Carlos, the light reminding him of his constantly repeated promise that he would always be there to protect him. Closer and closer, Pedro approached the light and took his mask off, throwing it to the curb in disgust.

_Fuck this shit._

A trashcan toppled over, startling Pedro and in the process, doing ore damage to his ankle. He had turned too quickly.

_Damn._

It was necessary, he thought, in order to flush out a rat you had to think like one. Reflexes were his strong point, but unluckily for Pedro, so were Cash's.

_Come out pendejo! I can hear you breathing you fuck!_

The echo of his strong accent rebounded through the dark alleyway, vibrating across the walls like a small earthquake. It was too quiet, there was so many friends doing this for a cut of the films takings. Cash was meant to be dead long before; surely, Starkweather's films were legendary in the underground porn industry. A couple of rape porn films here, fetishist films here and soon after, snuff 'cinema' was his calling. Carcer City was his; the police gave less of a care towards violence as they did towards people. The fuzz didn't car that they would be making the snuff film of the decade, as long as they got a cut and could go home, pretending to their wives, husbands and children that it was a relatively quiet nightshift.

The echo had already gone before Pedro put his mask back on, and gripped firmly on the meat hook. The light cascading off of the blood splatter and deepening Pedro's hatred towards this intruded, he decided to wait.

Two hours later, a crunch of gravel caught his attention.

An exhausted looking hooker lit up a cigarette and puffed blue plooms of smoke in Pedro's direction. He decided he'd walk over and warn her off.

"_Uh…excuse me, but you shouldn't be here at this time of night."_

"_Fuck you. You want service or do you just want me to leave you to yourself and your fucking creepy fetish?"_

Her hazel eyes had cast down to his meat hook and then glanced at his wounds, before deflecting back to his mask continuing to talk. Pedro noticed how beautiful she was, young, but tired.

"_So, which is it? A quickie, blow job, hand job, full service? Anal costs extra."_

Pedro mulled the thought over in his mind. This young, once gorgeous girl, obviously had had her fair share of men, she was astonishingly frank. It took her twelve minutes before she could persuade him.

"_Just a quickie, I suppose."_

"_What's wrong? You don't like women fella?"_

Pedro gave her a look of bewilderment, she was beautiful, yet the hours upon hours of sick old men, taking turns to sleep with her in a dank alley was off putting.

"_Of course, I'm just nervous."_

"_Of what? We're on our own."_

"_Nothing…come on then, let's get on with this."_

The prostitute pulled down her underwear as Pedro looked off at the alley again. He felt wrong sleeping with a hooker, especially at this fragile time. Why was he doing it? He didn't know, maybe to keep his mind off Cash and off the death of his friend. His boredom had set in an hour earlier, waiting for the slightest sign of Cash and now he was unbuttoning his jeans and taking his boxers down to his ankles.

"_Ohhh…"_

Moaning came from the hooker as soon as he entered, his mind eventually wandered and he concentrated on having sex with this, probably once pure woman.

"_That's it…that's the spot…"_

Pedro kept thrusting deeply into the whore, knowing full well that he should have had a condom on.

"_Yeah, God that feels good inside you…" _Pedro groaned, lying through his teeth, he felt too ashamed to say she felt like used goods.

He eventually turned her around against the wall, hands clasping her hips as he rocked back and forth, ready to come at any moment.

"_Fuck…that…feels so good…" _

Pedro tried to ignore her, looking at the meat hook which he had put down, before gasping as he pulled his penis out and ejaculating down her legs. He felt dirty, and rightly so, he hadn't the decency to clean her up, he just wanted to make sure there wasn't a higher risk of pregnancy.

"_Thanks…that was nice." _The hooker sounded satisfied as she wiped the semen off of her thigh. _"I'm on the pill buddy, I'm not another dumb whore, I'm a working gal."_

"_Where'd you live?" _Pedro felt inclined to make small talk afterwards, as if to console her about her living.

"_Well I'm originally from Liberty City. I moved here after the SPANK epidemic…" _She trailed off there.

Pedro knew he recognised the accent.

"_I hear they're making some big changes up there. I saw it on the news turning the whole city aroundt, making it feel more modern than the 70's look it has now."_

"_You've been?"_

"_Yeah, used to be in the El Diablo's gang, ran a drug ring for them in '98 or so."_

"_Very nice…look, I like you, can I…I have your number?"_

She could see from Pedro's surprised look that he wasn't expecting this.

"_Y'know," _came the drawl, _"so you can have my services again?"_

"_Sure, here it is…"_

He scrawled numbers down in her address book, before she walked off, hips swaying off into another alley, looking for more punters.

Pedro did feel ashamed, but he genuinely liked her. As he turned, two arms swung around a metal baseball bat to his jaw. He felt it break and collapsed to the floor in agony.

"_I thought I'd killed you?"_ The voice was unfamiliar, but he knew it must have been Cash.

Pedro attempted to speak, but all he could muster was a slurred, 'Fuck you.'

Cash grunted and muttered, _"I guess you were too busy fucking that whore to come after me. Well Starkweather wouldn't be pleased knowing that now, would he?"_

Pedro knew he was right and saw Cash was desperate.

"_Look, I'm gonna do you a favour here buddy. I need to escape and after all this is just a game right?"_

Cash arched his arms around as Pedro looked on in terror, Cash had twinned the bat to the sound of a broken skull and a scream came from across the alley. The working gal had seen it all.


End file.
